


Autumn is the Season for Falling in Love

by sigh_no_more



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 18:17:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2517254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigh_no_more/pseuds/sigh_no_more
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://oilan.tumblr.com/"> Oilan</a> who wanted, "Enjolras/Combeferre. Something autumn and/or Halloween-themed for any of the requested ships/characters would be lovely!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autumn is the Season for Falling in Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oilan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oilan/gifts).



> Written for [ Oilan](http://oilan.tumblr.com/) who wanted, "Enjolras/Combeferre. Something autumn and/or Halloween-themed for any of the requested ships/characters would be lovely!" 
> 
> Please enjoy!

Spring is the season many people equate with falling in love. It’s the season of new beginnings and flowers, soft, sun-soaked afternoons and consequently, falling in love. Summer is a season of heat and passion. It is easy to fall in love with people during beach-filled days, and seductive evenings. Even winter could be seen as a season of love. December is crammed with holidays celebrating familial love and friendship. Not to mention the span from January to February 14 th, when practically every store and TV commercial shouts about Valentine’s Day.

But fall, poor neglected fall, is hardly ever associated with a particular kind of love. Not the new love of spring, not a summer fling, and not the multitudes of love winter brings. This was an oversight, in Combeferre’s mind. He couldn’t imagine a better season to fall in love, or be in love, than fall. Or worse time, he supposed, if the object of your affections remained either oblivious, or uninterested, as was his situation.

He hadn’t known Enjolras last fall. They had met the second semester of their freshman year of college when they were in the same politics class. Combeferre knew instantly that they were destined to be good friends. His prediction proved correct, and soon he, Enjolras and Courfeyrac (Enjolras’s roommate) became inseparable. It was over the summer that Combeferre realized that while he missed both Enjolras and Courfeyrac, he missed them in different ways. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what that meant, and it stayed in the back of his mind all summer.

When school started again, Combeferre could no longer shove that nagging feeling to the back of his mind. Something was different, and the question of ‘what’ haunted him as the air slowly but surely turned colder and the leaves changed colors. It wasn’t until Halloween that he got his answer.

He had arrived early at the Halloween party Joly and Bossuet were hosting in their apartment to help them set up. Once set up, he decided there was no point in going home then coming back for the party, so he just changed in Joly and Bossuet’s bathroom, luckily having the foresight to bring his costume with him. The only downside was he had to wait a while before other people started showing up and for the party to get into full swing. It took even longer for his two best friends to arrive. He spotted Courfeyrac first, two hours well into the party.

“Everything okay?” Combeferre asked Courfeyrac, who handed him a beer.

“Enjolras,” Courfeyrac said, clinking their glasses together. “First I had to convince him to come. He was going to get a head start on writing a funding proposal for our next campaign. Then I found out he didn’t have a costume. Then I had to convince him to  _wear_  the costume I had scrounged up.”

Combeferre chuckled. “Where is he now?”

Courfeyrac pointed and Combeferre’s heart stopped. Standing in the doorway, was Enjolras, clad in a toga. The white fabric against his pale skin made him look luminescent and the way the light hit his golden curls made them glow. The cut of the toga exposed one toned shoulder, and gave a hint of a delicate collarbone. He was positively radiant.

When Enjolras saw Coufeyrac pointing, he scowled, but went over to them anyway. 

“What’s wrong?” Combeferre asked as Enjolras slid down into the empty space next to him.

“I look like a frat boy.”

 _You look like a god_ , Combeferre thought. “It’s fine. You look like someone wearing a Halloween costume.”

“This is your fault,” Enjolras told Courfeyrac, scowling. Combeferre was inclined to agree with him.

Courfeyrac defended himself and the costume he had created with great enthusiasm, and Enjolras reluctantly thanked him for his help when Courfeyrac pointed out he couldn’t _not_ go to Bossuet and Joly’s Halloween party since they had put so much work into it, and he couldn’t be the only asshole at the party not in a costume. Soon after that, he wandered off to go bob for apples, leaving Enjolras and Combeferre alone.

This happened at almost every party. The two of them were always content to watch their more wild friends let loose and have uninhibited fun, while they had quiet conversations in the corner and could keep an eye on everyone. It was how it always was.

It just felt different tonight. Tonight, Combeferre noticed Enjolras’s beauty. Of course, he had always known Enjolras was beautiful- he was objectively handsome. He couldn’t not notice it. But this was the first time it was affecting him so. He was hyperaware of how close they were, and of the heat radiating off of Enjolras’s thighs.

Stupid toga.

Combeferre had hoped once Enjolras wasn’t in a toga, the problem would go away. It was only logical. After all, they had been friends for more than half a year, and he had never felt anything like this before. Or at least he hadn’t noticed any feelings like that before. So it stood to reason that once Enjolras was back to his normal clothes, Combeferre’s feelings would go back to normal.

Of course that failed. He was realizing, he had probably had these feelings for much longer than he had given himself credit for, and once repressed feelings are cut free, it is very difficult to reign them back in. He was also realizing that fall was practically designed to fall in love with someone.

The Amis had organized a day of apple picking. The idea was to raise awareness of locally sourced food by getting students to see it at its source. They also planned to take their pickings and turn them into desserts for a bake sale. It was an excellent idea, and Combeferre was pleased with the results.

“How’s it going?” he called up to Enjolras, who was balanced precariously on a ladder.

“Excellent. I think I’m almost done here.”

Combeferre smiled fondly. “You don’t have to get _every_ apple from the tree, you know.”

“I do. But I’d rather not have to climb more ladders than I have to, so I figure I had better do fewer trees thoroughly than a lot scantily.”

“I’d rather not have you climb too many ladders either,” Combeferre frowned. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Incoming!”

Bahorel had been chasing Feuilly. They rounded a sharp corner, and Bahorel lost his footing and knocked into the ladder. It wasn’t enough to topple it, but it was enough to make it wobble and make Enjolras lose his grip. He fell out of the tree and straight into Combeferre’s arms. Combeferre didn’t know how he got to where Enjolras fell so quickly. He didn’t know how he had timed it so well, or how he had the strength to hold up Enjolras, light as he was. He just knew that Enjolras was looking at him with wide eyes and was slightly breathless and beautiful. Damnit.

“Thank you,” Enjolras said, smiling slightly at him.

“Of course,” Combeferre said, setting him down gently.

“I guess I have enough apples,” Enjolras said, bending over to pick up his basket.

Watching him, Combeferre couldn’t help but think fall was a very dangerous time.

 They were at a meeting for the Amis, debating who should go to the student center to submit forms for a fundraising booth. It was out of everyone’s way, and it was getting dark and cold. No one really wanted to go except-

“I’ll drop them off,” Enjolras said, picking up the packet of papers.

Combeferre frowned. Enjolras was only wearing a (faux) leather jacket. It couldn’t be warm enough. “Wait,” he said, pulling his scarf out of his messenger bag. Before he could think too much, he put it around Enjolras’s neck. Enjolras stood very still and watched Combeferre’s face as he looped the red scarf around Enjolras’s neck so that it was snug, but not choking him. “There.”

Enjolras tilted his head. Perhaps he saw something in Combeferre’s expression that confused him. “Thank you.”

Combeferre merely nodded, and watched Enjolras’s retreating figure. When he looked up, he saw Courfeyrac watching him with a knowing look. He hastily buried his face in his books.

When Enjolras returned the scarf the next day, it still smelled like him.

He had sweater paws.  _Enjolras had sweater paws_. Combeferre had some course reading to do, but he had a really hard time focusing, because Enjolras had just walked in and he had sweater paws, and it was the most adorable thing Combeferre thought he had ever seen. The sweater was clearly something Jehan had knitted. It was his newest hobby, and unfortunately his talent did not match his enthusiasm. He had knitted almost everyone in the Amis something. Well, apparently everyone now, judging by Enjolras’s newest item of clothing. It was burgundy, a little lumpy and misshapen, and so big Enjolras was practically swimming in it.

“-and you never do layer properly for the weather,” Jehan was telling Enjolras, who nodded absently as he tried to find his hands in the giant, woolly monstrosity he was wearing. When he spotted Combeferre, Enjolras beamed, and waved at him, the extra sleeve flopping over his hand to form the stupid sweater paws.

This was where Combeferre drew the line. Wasn’t it enough Enjolras was brilliant and passionate and ridiculously handsome? It should be enough that he was determined, and charming and brave. He wasn’t allowed to be  _cute_ too. That was just unfair. It was more than unfair. It was an affront.

“Hi,” Enjolras said, lowering himself into the chair next to Combeferre. “How’s it going?”

How dare he ask how it was going. Like he didn’t know. Well, he probably didn’t, but still. ‘How dare he?’, was Combeferre’s general attitude towards Enjolras’s existence, and the blonde didn’t seem to have picked up on that so far.

Combeferre managed to make some nonchalant reply, but spent the rest of the afternoon being distracted by sweater paws.

When Combeferre entered the common room of his, Courfeyrac and Enjolras’s shared dorm, he knew something was wrong. First of all it was _freezing_. Second of all, the fireplace was crammed full of candles that were lit. His eyes instantly felt on Courfeyrac, who he knew was the culprit.

“Um…”

“The heating is broken,” Courfeyrac said. “We’ll have to huddle for warmth.”

“Let me see,” Combeferre said, starting to walk over to the heater.

“No!” Courfeyrac said quickly.  Too quickly. “I already called the super. And look, I got all these blankets, and candles.”

“Yes, please explain the candles,” Combeferre said, folding his arms.

“Well, I couldn’t actually light a real fire,” Courfeyrac said. “I’m pretty sure the chimney is shut off anyway. But I thought there should be something in the fireplace, and it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“I doubt the _thought_ of a fire is going to keep us warm,” Combeferre said. “Or whatever head the candles are giving off.”                                                                                                                   

“Well like I said, huddling is always an option.”

Combeferre was going to kill him. He was actually going to murder Courfeyrac. Because to his horror, the effect of the candles was rather romantic. What was Enjolras going to make of it? And Enjolras. Poor Enjolras. He got cold so easily. He shouldn’t suffer because Courfeyrac got some insane idea in his head.

“We can cancel movie night, and go somewhere else.”

“No!” Courfeyrac said again, entirely too quickly. “Movie night is a monthly tradition. And what is are we without tradition? And plus, Enjolras will probably be cold if we try to move him from the couch.”

“From the couch?”

Combeferre turned around, confused, and upon closer inspection, saw what he initially thought was a pile of blankets was actually an Enjolras cocoon. It was hard to locate his friend at first, since all that was visible really were his eyes. Combeferre crossed over to the couch and tugged down the bit of blanket that was covering Enjolras’s mouth.

“Don’t make me move,” Enjolras pouted, looking thoroughly miserable.

Combeferre was definitely going to kill Courfeyrac.

“Fine,” Combeferre said.

“Excellent! I’ll start hot cocoa!” Courfeyrac said cheerily. Combeferre cast a quick look behind the couch at the heater, and to his dismay, and reluctant admiration, saw that the heater had been neatly disassembled, the pieces all lined up in neat little piles. He had no idea how Courfeyrac had taken it apart without breaking anything, but he was a little impressed. He was just suspicious as to why Courfeyrac had taken such drastic measures.

Combeferre sat down on the couch, leaving space between him and Enjolras for Courfeyrac. Enjolras shivered in his giant cocoon. Combeferre didn’t know how it was possible he could still be cold. The only parts of his body that were exposed to the air were his eyes and the bridge of his nose. The rest of him was wrapped up tightly in what appeared to be two blankets and a duvet.

Courfeyrac bounded back in with three cups of steaming hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon. “Here we are!”

He set them down on the table and popped in the first DVD of their _Band of Brothers_ set. Just then, his phone rang.

“Hello?” Courfeyrac said. “Jehan? What’s wrong? _Boyfriend troubles_? And right before Thanksgiving break? Oh no!”

Combeferre glared at him. Despite a semester of Acting 101 Courfeyrac had taken his first semester of university, he had too honest a personality to be a very good liar.

“Yes, of course I can come. Immediately. I will be there, friend. Stay strong,” he hung up. “I have to go.”

“What’s the fake emergency?” Combeferre asked.

“I’m going to tell Jehan you think his relationship problems count as fake emergencies,” Courfeyrac said. “I have to go.”

“We can come with you,” Enjolras said, trying to sit up. He failed, mostly since his limbs bunched up in his cocoon. He wobbled precariously, and almost rolled off the couch.

“No,” Courfeyrac said. “I think he’d prefer just me to go. You know, privacy and all that. I already started the DVDs, so you two might as well enjoy. Have fun!”

Combeferre stared at the door as it swung shut. So it was just him and Enjolras. For a _Band of Brothers_ marathon, that would last upwards of 10 hours. Enjolras edged towards the coffee table and somehow managed to free his hands enough so that he could pick up his cocoa.

This was worse than the sweater paws incident.

Combeferre turned his attention back to the TV. And things were fine. For the first few hours. But at the start of the third hour, the cocoa was long since gone, and Enjolras’s teeth started chattering. Combeferre really didn’t want to get any closer to Enjolras – he knew it would hurt too much later when he had to leave him. But Enjolras was uncomfortable, and Combeferre could do something about it, and Enjolras’s needs would always trump his.

“Take off the blankets for a minute,” Combeferre said.

Enjolras just stared blankly at him, so Combeferre sighed, and started to work open the blankets of the Enjolras cocoon. Enjolras whimpered when the cold air hit him, but Combeferre hopped in and shut the layers against the draft. Once the cocoon was sealed again, Enjolras let out a contented sigh and snuggled against Combeferre.

He was definitely going to murder Courfeyrac later.

“Body heat,” Combeferre said, his cheeks turning pink. “It’ll keep us both warm.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras muttered, pillowing his head against Combeferre’s chest. Yup. Definitely murdering Courfeyrac.

It wasn’t until a few hours after that that Combeferre noticed Enjolras had dozed off. He sighed. He couldn’t very well get up and go back to his bed- he’d have to move Enjolras, risk waking him up, and would definitely expose him to the cold. He fretted about this for so long, and eventually he also drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up, it was morning. The sun had risen, and it well into mid-morning. He was still snug against Enjolras.

“Enjolras,” he hissed. “Wake up.”

Enjolras’s eyes fluttered open. “Is it morning already?” he asked.

“We should get up,” Combeferre said. “We can find a café or something until the apartment gets warm.”

“Do we have to?” Enjolras asked.

“It’ll be warmer than in here.”

“I kind of like where I am,” Enjolras said quietly.

“I know you like your blanket cocoon, but it isn’t a practical long term solution-”

“I wasn’t talking about the cocoon,” Enjolras said, blushing. “I meant I like being next to you.”

“Oh,” Combeferre breathed. He told himself to calm down. Enjolras probably didn’t mean it the way he hoped he did.

“I want to be next to you all the time,” Enjolras continued. He paused, as if waiting for Combeferre to say something. When he didn’t, he added, “Please tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable? Why on earth would you think that?”

“You’ve been acting weird. Since Halloween. Like you don’t want to spend time with me. Which is too bad, because I want to spend time with you.”

“I want to spend time with you too,” Combeferre said breathlessly. He decided it was now or never. “Enjolras, the reason I’ve been acting weird is I realized I like you in a not strictly platonic way and I was afraid-”

“I can kiss you?” Enjolras interrupted, his blush spreading.

“Please,” Combeferre replied. So Enjolras did.

A few days later, Combeferre and his new boyfriend strode down the street. Their feet crunched on the dead leaves that covered the pavement. As Combeferre took in the beautiful reds and yellows and oranges the trees were covered in, and slipped Enjolras’s hand in his (to keep it warm, of course), he thought that autumn was the best possible season to be in love.


End file.
